


Shifts in the Ordinary

by Spaikd



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaikd/pseuds/Spaikd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adjusting back to the life as a human ain't as easy as it sounds. Especially when you have to deal with killer robots, crazy ex- Krimzon guards and, worst of all, puberty at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shifts in the Ordinary

**Hair**

Jak sunk his hand to the mass of red and gold and dragged his fingers again and again through the knots and tangles. Daxter just laid there, his eyes half open and staring into nothingness. His body rocked with the gentle tugs whenever Jak’s fingers got stuck in some particularly stubborn knot and he had to use more force to get his fingers free. He kept finger-combing the overgrown red mane until Daxter’s eyes slipped shut.

 

 **Familiarity**

“I don’ wanna sound greedy. You know I’m not a greedy guy. You can ask anyone. Stop a guy on the street and ask: ‘Excuse me sir, but would you call my friend Daxter here greedy?’ And he’d answer ‘Why no sir, a man with such an honest gaze and a straight posture can be nothing but the most humble and generous of all men inhabiting our fine city!’”

Dax stopped his raving for a few seconds, having momentarily forgotten his point. Jak smiled at the owlish look on his friend’s face and relaxed on his bed. Well, Daxter refused to call them beds per se, arguing that actual wooden planks would’ve probably been softer to sleep on than what the owner of the safe-house dared to call beds.

Funny thing, Dax had never complained about the softness of any beds before. Guess getting suddenly too large to use your best friend’s stomach as a mattress did that to you.

“So it wouldn’t be _greedy_ of me to ask for a decent room to spend the night in, would it? I mean, nothing wrong with cleaners, keep the city rollin’ and stuff, I just really don’ wanna sleep where they hold their brooms when they’re doing whatever it is that cleaners do when they’re not cleaning.”

“C’mon, Dax. The city’s in high alert. Be glad we didn’t have to sleep in the chairs of the command center.”

“I’m not sure it would’ve been a bad idea,” the redhead grumbled and sat heavily on the bed, making a face and glaring at the mattress accusingly. “You’d think they could marshal up something a little bit better than this rat hole. I mean, it’s not like we’ve saved the whole damn city before or nothing. No wait, we have saved the city a few times already-”

Jak rolled on his side, letting the familiar grumble lull him into sleep. Some things changed, some never did.

 

 **Chocolate**

“Ya know, there were some damn fine perks in being an ottsel,” Dax said as he popped another almond-filled chocolate goodness in his mouth, munching contently, “Good sense of smell for one thing.”

Jak watched in wonder when yet another row of chocolates vanished into the bottomless pit also known as Daxter’s stomach. Tess swore she’d once seen a whole barbecued chicken disappear down there. Samos hypothesized it was the consequences of being turned into an ottsel in the middle of the teenage years. Daxter’s body was now trying to compensate for all it had been left without for the past few years. Food, mostly.

“I don’ mean these ain’t still good stuff or nothing,” he continued, examining one of the sweets between his fingers. “The experience just ain’t what it used to be. Because trust me, when ya got the superior sense of smell of an ottsel, the experience is less on the culinary side and more on the… orgasmic kind.”

He popped another chocolate in and grinned mischievously at Jak.

“Dax! Those chocolates were for Torn’s birthday-cake!” Tess cried from the doorway as she stepped inside the kitchen. Dax almost choked on the candy.

 

 **Glass**

Slender arms draped behind Jak’s neck and a lithe body bumped against him carelessly. Pungent odor of alcohol wafted over his face, making Jak crunch his nose slightly in distaste.

“Ya knoooow, I’ve been thunkin’ tha’…If I wuzza girl. If I totally wuz a girl… Would ya do me?”

Beat.

“That’s it, no more alcohol for you. Ever.”

“Nooo, mah glass! He’s stealing mah glass! Tess! Help!”

 

 **Absurd**

Jak listened to the rustling of the sheets as Daxter shifted and turned restlessly in his bed. Seemed like one of those nights again. After a while he heard Daxter sit up and exhale tiredly. Jak pushed himself up as well.

“The feet again?” he asked.

“This is just so stupid!” Daxter wailed from his end of the room.

“Being de-ottselized apparently takes its toll,” Jak said, getting off his bed. “Samos said that once your muscles get used to the exertion the pain should subside.”

“But it’s still damn stupid if ya want my humble opinion. I’m nearly nineteen; I shouldn’t be having friggin’ growing pains!” The mattress dipped as Jak sat down on the bed next to him. He couldn’t see the half desperate, half frustrated grimace on Daxter’s face, but he could hear the pain ebbing through the normal whining in his voice.

Daxter’s voice. That was another thing that had almost driven Dax and everyone around him into hysterics, just for slightly different reasons.

Daxter could still recall vividly the horrifying day Ashelin had walked in the Naughty Ottsel a few weeks after _it_ had begun. Everyone else had already heard _it_ and the reason behind _it_ and mostly gotten used to _it_ , but to Ashelin it was the first time she heard _it_.

She’d almost fallen off her seat for laughing.

Daxter had always thought that the stories about teenage males’ voice breaking were just wildly over-exaggerated urban myths old men (= Samos) used to scare pre-teen boys with. Then it happened to him, and to his horror Dax found out all he’d been told was painfully true: One moment his voice was surprisingly low and manly, the next it broke into a squeal high-pitched enough to break glass with. Taking in account how much he loved to talk and how unintentionally hilarious it made him sound; the whole time _it_ lasted was a deep personal tragedy for Daxter. Especially when he’d made beer shoot out of Ashelin’s nose without meaning to.

Nowadays he had a less nasal, more adult male version of his normal voice, but in exchange his feet had begun aching like bitches. The old sage explained that his turning into an ottsel during the critical years of teenage had cut his normal development, and being turned back into a human had made his body pick up from where it had left. Basically, Daxter was an eighteen year old boy in the body of a fifteen year old. Running along the arduous missions wasn’t doing him any good, since the muscles of his feet were developing faster than the tissue connecting muscle to bone, causing the tissue to become inflamed with the constant exertion.

At first it only hurt when Daxter started running, but since he refused to stay back and rest while Jak faced the dangers, the inflammation only became worse. Even the green eco liniment Samos made for him helped only temporarily, the pains recurring more often as the infection worsened. It seemed to be developing into a chronic disease with a fast pace.

Absurd wasn’t a word strong enough to describe the situation in Daxter’s humble opinion.

“Dax, I know you won’t like this, but I think you should just take it easy for a while and stay in Haven,” Jak suggested sympathetically

“Aw man, ya can’t leave me behind!” He protested immediately, “It’s against the unwritten rules of the universe! Jak and Daxter always go together, come hell or high water. You ain’t leaving me behind, buddy!”

Jak didn’t say anything, just took a firm hold of Daxter’s knee and squeezed. The younger one grunted and doubled over in pain.

“With your legs like this, yes I am.”

“It’ll pass over once I start running again,” Dax tried to disparage.

“Yeah, and then it’ll come back in the evening and bring a couple of friends with it. You have to face the facts, Dax; your feet need a good, long rest.”

“It’s not fair,” he grumbled. “I don’ wanna just sit on my butt, as well shaped as it is, doin’ nothing while everyone runs around like mad chickens killing metal heads and preventing the latest apocalypse and whatnot.”

“You need to get better. And the only way you get better is by resting.”

“Well, yeah,” Dax admitted reluctantly. They sat in silence for a moment, and then he piped up hopefully: “Green stuff said something else might help as well.”

Jak was quiet for a moment as he contemplated over the suggested means of aid. “Are you sure you want it?” he asked gravely. “A massage sounds nicer than what it actually is. In reality it’s ripping the adhered tissue off the bone.”

“Yeah, but it should speed the recuperation, right?”

“It’ll hurt.”

“Pfft, what’s a little pain for a stud like me?” Dax flipped his friend off. “No pain, no game!”

“Alright,” Jak sighed. “Think you can handle a little agony right away?”

“Hey, not like it can get any worse than what it already is.”

“I’ll get the liniment,” Jak said and got up.

Forty minutes later Daxter was sweating and shaking from pain as Jak finally stopped digging his thumbs into the aching muscles of the redhead’s shanks. Massaging was a rough method to treat the chronic exertion compartment syndrome, but Daxter grinned despite the obvious discomfort and gave Jak a shaky thumbs-up. “Thanks, pal.”

“Anytime, Dax,” he answered, heart clenching a little when he saw the deep bite- marks in the redhead’s palm. He’d had to stop at one point to wrench Daxter’s hand out of the boy’s mouth as he’d kept biting down on it violently.

“That don’t do the trick then nothing does,” Dax moaned, flipping on his back. “And if it doesn’t, I’ll kick moss man’s ass from here to Spargus.”

“Yeah. It’s been a tough ride,” Jak agreed hoarsely. Fatigue was starting to have its effect on him as well. He stretched his shoulders as Dax burrowed his back in the mattress.

“Hey,” he blinked in surprise and pushed at Jak’s head as the bigger guy suddenly collapsed next to him. “Ya got your own bed.”

“Mhminamoment,” Jak mumbled against the mattress. Daxter poked his head gently a few more times before letting it go.

The following week Tess walked in on them during a massage session. Jak was sitting between the redheads spread legs, digging his thumbs in Daxter’s thighs while the keening boy clutched on to the bed sheets, his back arching up and down off the mattress.

Tess collapsed into random hysteric giggle fits for the rest of the evening. Jak couldn’t look the girl in her eyes for the next two days. Daxter was irritated because he couldn’t fathom what was so damn funny about his hurting feet being treated, damn it!

 

 **Stirring**

Dax has real nice thighs.

I mean, nothing wrong with having nice thighs. It’s nice having nice thighs. Noticing other people have nice thighs is not wrong either. Especially if the noticing is just noticing. Nothing wrong with noticing nice thighs. Nice thighs that belong to male best friends. Because if you just notice the thighs and don’t think something along the lines of ‘those would be nice thighs to have around my thighs’ or such, then it’s just normal noticing and nothing else. Did I just think what I think I thought? Oh Precursors, I’m going to hell for noticing Daxter has nice thighs and thinking what I think I just thought.

“Ya know,” Dax interrupted Jak’s errant line of thinking, “Doing car repairs in the middle of a friggin’ desert is not what I’d call the highlight of my day. I think I got sand in my ears.”

“Mhm,” Jak agreed, sipping water from a bottle as he leaned against the car. It was very early in the morning and the sun had yet to climb high enough to turn the barren wasteland to the kind of place most major religions sent sinners, heretics and unbelievers into.

“And hair. And shoes. And shirt. And pants,” Daxter continued.

Pants, Jak thought darkly. It’s all because of those damn pants. It’s the color that keeps catching my attention. It’s not like it reveals anything I haven’t seen before, but it sort of… clings. Especially when he’s bending over like that. Let’s just admit it; those pants are pretty damn indecent.

“It’s somehow especially nasty when it reaches the underpants. Didn’t believe I’d ever be saying this, but there were some perks in not havin’ pants at all.”

Oh yes, Jak agreed silently. At least the _fur_ never looked suggestive.

“Damn sand gets everywhere. Bet the cars break down here more often just because of it. Corrodes the parts quick, it does,” Dax wiggled out of the engine cowl.

“See this? Know what this is? Me neither.” He threw the rusty part- whatever it once had been- over his shoulder. It landed on the sand with a soft thud. “Whatever it was, it is that no more. It has ceased to be.”

“Did you get the cooler fixed?” Jak asked, still sipping from the bottle.

“Yea, I think I got it. Gimme a swig,” he stole the canteen and took a few greedy draughts before pouring a small amount over his face. Silvery droplets ran down his forehead and over freckled cheeks. A few drops got stuck against all odds in Daxter’s eyelashes. Jak wondered how he’d never before noticed how long Daxter’s eyelashes actually were…

 

 **Pretend**

 _The guard was at least twice his size and three times his weight. That didn’t worry him too much; he was used to going up against opponents a whole lot bigger than him. Hell, he and Jak had taken down monsters ten times worse than one puny ex-Krimzon Guard gone a Mental Case. And he’d been ottsel- sized back then, so some of the monsters had looked_ really _big._

 _Well, alright, the KG gone rogue did look pretty big even when Daxter was finally averagely human-sized. It still didn’t worry him though, slipping off bad situations might have been easier as an ottsel, but he was still a slippery little weasel if he wanted to._

“Oi, Keira!” Daxter called as he limped into the garage, the mechanic nowhere in sight. “You in here or what?”

“Yes, what do you want?” her voice called back from somewhere up the ramp where her newest racing investment waited for final modifications.

“Ya got any ice in here?” Daxter asked, grunting as he found a flat surface with free space to sit on. His side ached.

“Ice? What do you need that for?”

“Oh, nothing, just thought I’d use it to cool down my scotch,” he replied sardonically.

“Scotch?” her puzzled voice asked and Daxter rolled his eyes.

“Got that ice or not, sugar?”

“Check the refrigerator in the back,” she suggested.

“Thanks babe,” Daxter winced as he got up. Keira finally poked her head out from the monster she was fixing. The old zoomers were quickly going out of fashion in the racing scene as the considerably more street-credible Wasteland monster trucks conquered the new courses.

“Really, what do you need the ice for?” She inquired. Her jaw dropped in quite an amusing manner as she finally got a good look at Daxter’s face.

“You should’ve seen the other guy,” Daxter grinned, even though it did kinda hurt to smile with a swollen cheek.

 _The gun barrel collided with his face, stunning him just enough so that another hit managed to land. The barrel dug painfully into his ribs, making him cry out in pain. His attacker chuckled and Daxter could feel the rage building up in his chest._

 _The man probably hadn’t expected a straightforward attack from the skinny redhead, so it took him by surprise as Daxter suddenly lunged forwards. He swung the gun again, but Daxter was already down and sliding between his legs. Dax stopped the slide by grabbing the man’s both feet, then did a sort of funny acrobatic kick that send the man flat on his stomach. Adrenaline surged through the boy’s veins and he was up and running in a flash. He heard his assailant grunt but didn’t waste time looking if he was chased or not._

“Ow! Careful with that stuff, sugarplum!” Daxter hissed as Tess patted the cotton pad soaked in disinfectant over the grazes on Daxter’s palms.

“Daxxie-poo, I know you’re a big boy and you can manage in the playground all by yourself…” She gave him the sad look of a worried older sister, or possibly a mother. “But could you still do me a favor and not take on the biggest bullies of the sandbox all by yourself, huh?”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he grunted as Tess continued addressing his wounds. “Guy was on me like an extremely pissed off wumpbee. I couldn’t just stay there and wait for Sig to finally drag his ass over.”

“Still, I hate to think what would’ve happened if Sig hadn’t finally caught up with you.”

 _Sig crashed on the man like some angry old pagan god of war, pushing him off Daxter. He forced the ex KG to fall back with mighty swings of his trusted Peacemaker, landing a solid blow square on the man’s jaw. He tried countering by grabbing a hold on Sig’s weapon, but after a short tug-o-war Sig’s sheer mass sent the man stumbling backwards._

 _Daxter gulped the air in huge, painful gasps. Black spots swam across his vision and his throat hurt._

 _“You alright there, Cherry?” Sig kneeled next to the boy sprawled on the dingy sewer floor._

 _“Yeh, ‘m fine,” Daxter rasped, vision tilting briefly as he sat up. “What happened? Did ya get ‘im?” He scanned the surrounding, searching for a body._

 _“Nah, didn’t have time to load my Peacemaker. Bastard took off there,” his thumb pointed to the entrance leading deeper in the sewers. Daxter eyed the dark entrance with deep distaste._

 _“Let’s get going, Chili Pepper. Here, up we go!”_

 _“AAAA fuck fuck fuck my leg ow fuck...”_

Tess hissed as she rolled Daxter’s trouser legs up to examine the knee. The bruising wasn’t that bad, in comparison. Daxter wouldn’t have been walking for a while if Sig hadn’t slapped a healthy dosage of pure green eco on it straight away.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Daxter waved his hand dismissively, his grin as ever present as always. “Ya need more than one puny KG to get the old Daxterinator down!”

“And Sig still kept dragging you along,” she muttered in an irascible manner, eyeing the large bruise as if staring angry enough would force it to disappear.

 _They ran into Jak in a juncture of the pipeline, both men cocking their guns at each other before recognizing the other. Jak took one look at Daxter and asked: “Which way?”_

 _“Think he headed down east,” Sig answered. “Pepper here got a little damaged.”_

 _“I’m alright.”_

 _Jak watched Daxter limp a few steps before he laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “That looks bad enough. You’d better head back and get yourself fixed straight up.”_

 _Daxter couldn’t exactly hide the relief echoing in his voice. “Yea okay, guess you’re right, buddy.”_

 _“Sig. Take Daxter up.” Jak switched his gun mod to Vulcan Fury, looking even more dangerous than usual. “I’ll finish it up down here.”_

“Jak,” Tess jumped up from the table as Jak walked in the pub, clothes still reeking of the sewers. “Tell me you hurt that bastard. Bad.”

Jak nodded solemnly, answering to Tess but keeping his gaze fixed steady on the eyes of his bruised friend.

“He won’t be coming back up on the surface any time soon. At least, not until the next time the sewers flood and flush the body up.”

“Good,” Daxter nodded quietly, smiling cheerfully at his two friends.

 _But hands still curved around his neck and crushed down on his windpipe. He kicked and flailed, thumping his fists against the man’s arms, but the ex- Krimzon wouldn’t budge. The man was too heavy; Daxter was too weak to push him off. He tried to scratch the soldier, but there was no real effort behind his movements anymore._

 _Darkness ebbed in the edges of his vision; there was nothing he could do to stop the merciless pressure on his throat._

 _He was going to…_

 _Jak..._

“Daxter. Daxter. Wake up.”

 _I just wanted to tell ya this before I-_

“Wake up, Dax. It’s a dream. Wake up.”

 _I’m so, so sorry._

Jak shook Daxter gently, calling his name monotonously over and over until the redhead drew in a ragged breath and opened his eyes. He clawed at Jak blearily, but Jak draped his arms firm around the flailing limbs.

“It’s alright Dax. It’s just me, it’s alright. It’s alright. It’s alright, Daxter, it’s just me.”

“Jak…”

The boy trembled uncontrollably in Jak’s arms, harsh intakes of breath turning into violent sobs. Jak rocked them back and forth, hushing and mumbling comforting words into Daxter’s hair.

“Shh, you did well, it’s alright…”

“Jak, I- I’m too- I’m not- I ain’t s-strong enough,” he hiccupped. “I keep on pret-pretending I’m not scared, but I- but I- but I-”

“Hey, it’s just you and me here,” Jak took a reassuring hold on his shoulders, looking Daxter square in the eyes. “No need to pretend to be anything you’re not.”

“That’s just the thing,” Daxter whispered back. His eyes looked far too haunted in the gloom of the night. “Unless I pretend, that’s what I am: nothing.”

 

 **Sacrilege**

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Isn’t there a law against that or something?” Torn grunted over his drink, earning a glare from Daxter.

“I’ve been _thinkin’_ ,” Dax continued louder and ignored Torn’s lurid snort, “That since Precursors are ottsels, and yours truly happened to be an ottsel for a considerable amount of time... So practically it makes me a Precursor, right?

“Meaning?” Torn grumbled.

“Meaning I’m your new God little girls, bow down and worship me.”

“I think I just became a profound atheist,” Torn rumbled.

“Well you ain’t exactly a girl so I’ll let it slide just this once, tattooed wonder.”

“Would his divinity like some more godly nectar of life?” Tess smiled from behind the counter, hefting a bottle alluringly.

“Ahh, the nubile young worshipper, she knows how to please the very gods themselves,” Daxter winked at Torn who harrumphed in return.

Daxter nursed the nectar of life between his hands for a moment, contemplating quietly how best to abuse his newfound might.

“You there!” He suddenly snapped his fingers at Jak. He lifted his eyebrows in return. “Your supreme deity demands some sacrifices. A few barbecued chickens could do, and get that good mayonnaise dip from the shop while you’re at it, maybe some fruit… Oo, grapes! Grapes are good, godly an’ all that. Got that all down? Good, now run along!”

Jak’s other eyebrow was now considerably higher than the other.

“Well, get to it? Hurry up, man, gods do not wait for any mortals. Chop chop!”

Jak got off his stool without taking his eyes off Daxter. The redhead eyed his friends advance with a haughty, yet growingly suspicious, gaze.

“What are ya doing? Hey? Hey. Hey!”

Daxter was tugged unceremoniously (pun intended) off his stool and into a tight headlock.

“I warn ya, buddy, you don’ wanna be doing this to a supreme being of unimaginable powerYAGH! AGH AGH JAK NOT FAIR!”

“Jak Mar, the man who enslaved the very gods themselves,” Jak hummed pleasantly as he tickled his captive deity.

“T-this is sacrilege!” Dax panted from his laughter, squirming violently as Jak attacked his ribs mercilessly. “The anger of Me will- agh ah ha ha- will smite the sinner down! Blasphemer! Heretic! Iconoclast!”

“Oh, I’ll show you sacrilege,” Jak growled in his ear, the husky sound making Daxter’s stomach do funny flips all of a sudden.

“Brats,” Torn groused. He raised his glass meaningfully at Tess who then poured more nectar of life in his glass while the boys held up the racket.

 

 **Realize**

“Jak!” she said suddenly and he snapped his head up from the blueprints of the new car. Keira looked like she’d just realized something utterly awesome and only wondered why she hadn’t come up with it any sooner.

“We’ll always be friends!” the girl announced brightly. Jak blinked in confusion and nodded tentatively in agreement to the proclamation.

“Just friends,” she defined. “Very good friends. But friends.”

Jak hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. “Yeah. Guess we’ll be that. Friends.”

“Great!” she chirped. “Just wanted to make sure we’re both clear on that.”

“Sure,” Jak shrugged, smiling at her. The girl smiled back and Jak the same old warmth of affection melt his heart. Keira was as beautiful as she’d ever been, smiling like that.

 

 **Tormentor**

Jak had met a few tormentors in his time. Daxter used to call Samos one, back in the carefree days in the village whenever the sage assigned the boys do such foul tasks as scrubbing the hut’s wooden staircase or finishing up schoolwork. Like all children, they’d rather played outside than sat in the stuffy hut learning math.

Jak had thought he’d learned the true meaning of torment in the two years he’d been held as a guinea-pig in the Baron’s laboratory. Not only had they disposed his body to the painful dark eco treatments, but strived to break his mind and will as well. Baron Praxis had represented all the suffering he’d been through, and only the thought of revenge had kept Jak sane for quite a long while.

But only a few years after Baron’s death, Jak found his greatest tormentor.

He stared at the roof and slowly counted to ten. Then he decided ten wasn’t nearly enough and continued counting. He got up to forty-eight or so until Daxter mumbled in his sleep and burrowed his nose against Jak’s neck, making Jak lose the track of the numbers. He sighed and started the counting over.

Jak was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone as drunk as Daxter that night. He was still slightly drunk himself, could feel the faint buzz of alcohol in his system, but it was nothing compared to the indisputable roar in Daxter’s veins.

The boy had started early in the evening when they’d visited Onin, the old seer tendering homemade malt whisky for them. Jak had declined, so Daxter downed his share as well, cheeks tinting red from the alcohol’s bite. He’d rattled cheerfully the whole way to the Stadium afterwards and then somehow convinced Jak and Keira that going to the Naughty Ottsel to say hi to Tess was a brilliant idea.

At some point Dax had sat under the table, downing shots and giggling about how he was drinking himself under the table. Then he’d sang off-key, hugged almost everyone in the bar including Torn, someone Jak recognized as a member of Razor’s racing team and whole number of random customers. He’d fallen over the counter, breaking three glasses on the process. He’d cut his hand badly when he’d tried to clean the mess and only laughed when Tess tried to treat the wound. Then he had drunk more ‘for the pain’. Jak doubted he’d even been able to feel pain anymore at that point.

When Jak had finally gotten enough and dragged his companion off, Daxter had, for Precursors sakes, he’d tried to kiss him. He’d missed Jak’s mouth spectacularly and hit his ear instead. Then, as Jak finally managed to get Daxter to the bed, the boy had hung on his neck so tight he couldn’t peel his hands off, mumbling “Jak I luv you ya my best friend mah best pal my very best friend please don’ go ‘way please please Jak,” over and over in his ear until he’d given in and promised not to leave.

Now Daxter was passed out against him, breathing against his neck through partly opened lips and Jak blamed the alcohol for his growing hard-on.

He could easily have left the bed then; Dax wouldn’t have stirred even if he’d started shooting furniture apart, talk about sneaking back to his own bed. But he couldn’t leave. Couldn’t do the things his less honorable side suggested either. Couldn’t roll them over and kiss and touch the unresisting body sprawled right underneath him…

Jak bit his lip and decided to keep counting up to two- no, make it three hundreds. Maybe that would take his mind off the lowly images his alcohol-induced libido generously supplied.

Jak had found his greatest tormentor. It wasn’t Baron Praxis, it wasn’t Errol, and it wasn’t the numerous scientists poking him with needles and dark eco…

Daxter shifted and moaned quietly and he lost the count again.

Jak’s greatest tormentor was turning out to be Jak himself.

 

 **Yield**

He gave in. Relented. Conceded. Threw down the arms and raised a white flag over the ramparts.

Daxter was smiling that certain smile as he told the story. Not the big goofy smile or the boasting grin. It was the one smile that made two dimples burrow in his cheeks and eyes glitter in mirth. The smile that said ‘I got a secret and I’m gonna share it with you and you only’.

It was the smile that always had Jak fighting himself not to pull the boy closer and kiss that secret out of him so no one else would ever hear it. It was especially painful whenever someone else was on the receiving end of that smile.

Now there was only the two of them and Daxter laughed quietly at something he’d said, his eyes squeezing shut and the overbite flashing adorably, and the only thing Jak could do was yield.

Dax didn’t stop smiling as Jak curled his hand behind his neck gently and pulled him closer. He did let out a small, surprised noise when their lips pressed together. Jak kissed him slow and thorough, savoring every curve, memorizing every hesitant movement.

The red head stared wordlessly as Jak pulled back. He kept his hands behind the boy’s neck and stared back solemnly.

 

 **Novice**

Kisses Dax could handle alright. He’d melt like wax in sunlight whenever Jak pulled him in for slow, sensual kisses in the car, and pleasantly out of breath at the quick, rough kisses after a race.

Kisses on the neck were tougher. They made Daxter’s breath quicken and had his cheeks flush in various hues of red. Usually he went completely boneless whenever they moved to kisses on the neck.

Kisses any lower made him tense like a violin string.

Jak smiled against the warm skin, kissing it reassuringly slow. He stroked his hand down Daxter’s side, gently but firmly, and moved his lips to the hollow of his collarbone. The redhead was known for his loud mouth, but he was surprisingly quiet during their frequently increasing make-out sessions. Only vocal signs of pleasure were usually small hitches in his breath and sometimes a whimper or two. Jak bit his neck softly and earned one of those rare sounds. He moved back to the mouth and Dax draped his hands around Jak’s neck, kissing back earnestly.

Jak nudged Daxter’s thighs open with his own legs and pressed against the boy beneath him, huffing in the kiss as a wave of arousal ripped through his body at the contact. Daxter broke the kiss without a sound as Jak rocked his hips against him, neck arching invitingly. Jak started kissing a trail down the pale throat and lower, and Daxter stiffened right on cue. Only it wasn’t the kind of stiffening Jak hoped to feel in their nether regions. Instead, Daxter’s whole boy became rigid like a wooden plank.

Jak sighed and thumped his forehead against Daxter’s chest. “You could maybe relax a little?”

“Huh?” came the eloquent reply.

“Dax. Relax.”

“Uh. Right. Sorry.”

Daxter forced his muscles to unwind and Jak moved back to the kissing. The kisses grew quickly impatient and demanding from Jak’s part and in no time the man pushed his hands up underneath Daxter’s shirt. Daxter huffed in surprise and arched against him instinctively. Jak caught Daxter’s lip between his teeth as he rubbed the boy’s nipples between his fingers. Dax made a panicked little sound in his throat and tensed up again, making Jak growl in frustration. He wasn’t giving up now, precursors damn it, he would make Daxter relax if he had to.

He pushed the shirt up and showered Daxter’s chest with quick, needy kisses. He attacked the left nipple with his mouth, rubbing the right one with his fingers while he worked the other with his tongue. The nubs hardened deliciously and Jak dragged his teeth gently over one before moving to the other. Dax was still as tense as ever but Jak didn’t mind, rubbing patiently down his chest and stomach with one hand.

Rough palming against Daxter’s growing erection produced a satisfactory loud wail. Daxter tried to curl around himself, to get away from the imploring hands and, most of all, his own undependable body. He’d wanted to be cool and sexy and adult like Jak was, but he had absolutely no clue how to manage it. Jak seemed to know exactly what he was doing at all times while Daxter could barely even guess how his body was going to react to the next touch.

He keened quietly while Jak kept stroking him through his pants. All the small sounds were getting to Jak; the hitched breaths, the creak of the bed when Daxter shifted, the rustling of their clothes. Daxter smelled like soap and heat and machine oil. His body was hot against Jak’s, the shape of his rigid cock through the thin fabric…

“Daxter,” Jak rumbled, his head full of the sound and smell and texture of sex. Daxter began squirming and Jak pressed down to feel the slender body twisting against him, never ceasing his hand from rubbing up and down.

“Jak, I,” Daxter whined, hands clamping around the bigger man’s neck. His breaths grew into almost panicked hitches and Jak had to bite his own lip not to do anything…radical. Such as tearing down Daxter’s clothes and-

“Uh, uh, I- Jak…Ah!” Daxter moaned.

“Fuck!” Jak cursed and tore himself off Daxter. The redhead blinked and watched in confusion as Jak sat on the edge of the bed, large hands clenching against the sheets as he took in big, calming breaths.

“Uh…um, what- what happened?”

Jak took a look at his boyfriend, sprawled on the bed with a confused expression and rumpled clothing. “Daxter…” Jak rubbed his face with one hand. “You have no idea how hard you’re making this for me.”

Daxter sat up, face coloring with shame. So Jak even admitted he was a lousy lay, huh?

“Well, it’s- it’s not like I was the one who came up with the idea in the first place!” Daxter scoffed, trying to arrange his legs so that they’d hide his arousal from the view. He felt exposed, vulnerable. “Sorry if I’m not _experienced_ like some people. Hey, I spent three whole years ottsel-shaped! People didn’t exactly get into _that_ heavy petting, no matter how sexy the tail.”

“Dax, I think you got me wrong.” Jak interrupted his rambling, giving the boy a heady look. “I’m trying my hardest to get to it on a slow pace. But Precursors forgive me, I just want to rip the clothes off you and do you so hard you wouldn’t be walking straight for a week.”

“…Oh,” Daxter replied, blushing even more. “It’s okay, I don’t mind if you rip a few clothes. As long as you’re buying me new ones. ‘Cause I really want you to do… that sort of stuff. With me. Um.”

“Is it alright?” Jak reached his hand to stroke Daxter’s cheek. “You get so tense sometimes, I can’t help but feel like it’s rejection,” Jak ran his fingers down Daxter’s neck and lower, making the boy shiver.

“Well, uh,” Daxter looked away, trying to figure how to put into words what he was feeling. “It’s kinda like… I’m running a race. And it’s my first time on the track. So…” He gave Jak a sheepish grin. “I know the car is excellent and the driver is the handsomest fella in town, but it’s still kinda scary when you don’t know which curve is gonna send you flying and drop you outta track.”

“I see,” Jak smiled back and leaned in to give Dax a small peck on the lips. “Guess we both have lot to learn before we get to the finishing line.”

“Yea, guess we do,” Dax grinned.

“Mm,” Jak hummed, pulling Dax for another kiss. “Don’t worry, it’s not like the whole championship is depending on the first takeoff.”

“Jak?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we cut with the lame racing allegories and get on with it already?”

Smiling, Jak nuzzled Daxter’s ear with his nose. Short nips to the skin there and there, a quick swipe of tongue here. Hands travelled down, found hardened nipples and rubbed up and down. A mouth followed after, sucking the nib in and-

Daxter’s whole body grew rigid under Jak’s hands. Jak merely grunted and pushed Daxter down on the bed, not stopping his ministrations.

Jak was going to _make_ Dax relax.

 

 **Hero**

It was a portentous evening. The dull sting of smoke hung in the air, heavy like depression on a man’s shoulder. The sky promised no cleansing rain upon the dusty streets of the city and only few stars brightened the sky.

In the outskirts of Haven City, a sealed doorway of one of the abandoned cesspits that once conducted sewage outside clanked. If anyone had been near enough to listen they’d heard a muffled, slightly echoing voice saying:

“Ow, damn it! My head!”

Followed by more dull clanking, as if someone was kicking the sealed entryway, and the voice echoed again: “Open up or I’ll blow ya up! And I really mean it, still got some ammo left here.”

After more clanks, threats and a small explosion, a shadowy figure emerged from the old sewer. Cursing loudly, it rolled down on the stones of Haven City. The figure stood up and dusted itself, taking in the dingy alleyway approvingly.

“Oh Precursors, thank you! Thank your furry little butts, I’m finally here!”

The shadowy figure was still for a moment. Then it added: “Food!” and launched onwards.

Daxter had been having a hell of a day. First he’d found himself in an Air Train filled from top to bottom with explosives. On the pilot’s seat he’d found a robot, programmed by a madman to pilot the thing to crash in the middle of Haven City’s biggest racing event. Once he’d warned Jak and the others about the situation and tried to change the vehicle’s course, the damn robot had kicked him out in the middle of the desert! Well, maybe not in the middle, more like the border where he could see the City and all, but it took damn long to walk there anyway.

The bloody robot had even broken and stolen his goggles while he’d tried ripping the cords off its back, the cursed little son of a-

So now his cheeks, nose and arms were badly burned, his ribs ached from when he’d landed on his stomach (thank Precursors for soft dunes), he was tired and thirsty and his head itched because of all the sand stuck in his hair (damn Precursors for the damn dunes). He hadn’t felt like arguing with the Guards on the city gates since he had no idea where his ID was, so instead he’d taken one of the handy ‘shortcuts’ beneath the walls he and Jak had discovered some time earlier.

Thank goodness at least for the water bottles he always carried with him when visiting Spargus, otherwise he’d be sporting massive dehydration headache on the top of it all. He did stop by the first fountain on the way to fill them and felt the urge to just jump in. He resisted the impulse just so the ladies wouldn’t all get crazed from seeing his sexy form in wet clothing in the public.

Speaking of the public. Dax scanned the people on the streets with interest. He didn’t think he’d seen people as upset since Jak had last crashed his car against some big statue back in the old Baron’s day, causing that huge traffic jam when the damn statue went and smashed all over the street. People had been both scared and furious at the same time, and they wore the exact same looks on their faces now.

“You’d think someone from Kras City won the whole tournament or something,” Dax mumbled and started jogging towards the arena.

Samos was the first of their group that Daxter ran into. The sage was organizing treatment for all the injured in a temporary camp, yelling equally to the soldiers and civilians running around with stretchers and the people giving first-aid.

“You there! Only ones with anything more serious than a broken arm inside the tents! And don’t waist stretchers on anyone who can walk on their own two legs. Lady, that is nothing but a mere scratch on your daughter’s cheek, I am sure you could have managed bandaging that in your own house. Is that damn green eco supplementary still not here?”

“Yo, green stuff,” Dax greeted the old man, “You seen Jak around?”

“No my boy, I have not seen Jak. Don’t put the bandages there you little goose, they’ll only be on everyone’s way! Try to think with your brain miss, if you have got any!”

“Know where I might find him?” Dax asked, unbothered by the fuss around them.

“Try inside the Stadium. You there! No not you, you!”

“Okay,” Dax replied and turned to head inside.

“And tell Torn I want my eco supplementary!” Samos yelled after the redhead.

Torn was having the worst evening in long time. Instead of driving a race like he was supposed to, he was organizing a rescue operation. The worst was over by now; all the spectators had been evacuated from the wreckage of the Stadium, the fire caused by the explosives had been extinguished and the injured were getting help. But they still dug in the ruins of the fallen stadium tower and the collapsed lower bases in the hope of more survivors.

Daxter had warned them of the threat; thank Precursors at least for that. Torn could only imagine what the damages might have been unless they’d started evacuating immediately.

Jak had tried to shoot the Air Train down before it hit the Stadium. Unfortunately the combined strength of the small missiles they’d scratched together from the racing cars didn’t have firepower enough to cause serious damage to the transport designed to resist the harsh conditions of the desert as well as minor Metal head attacks. And talk about the death bot piloting the transport. Damn thing had caused most of the damage, shooting dark eco missiles and whatnot. Jak couldn’t probably have taken the thing down at all if Daxter hadn’t managed to damage its flight stabilizer beforehand.

“Hey, Torn.”

Finding the broken pair of goggles with the remains of the robot had been a heavy hit for all of them. The brat had been annoying even at the best times, but he was still a part of the crew that had been through too much together not to care for each other. He could only imagine how the rest of them felt for the loss. Tess had taken it like a champion. Torn was proud of her, she hadn’t been one of his most trusted spies during the times of the Underground for nothing. Keira’s reaction had been a little surprising: the usually cheeky and word-vise mechanic mostly just sat there, not able to do anything in the situation.

“Torn, hey.”

Daxter. He’d be remembered as a hero.

“Helloo, earth to tattoos! Ya copy?”

Jak had only squeezed the goggles in his fist without a word, his face closing off all emotion. He’d worked ever since like a madman, directing all his strength to digging up survivors, not saying a word unless it was absolutely necessary. For Jak Daxter’s loss was going to-

“Hey! TORN!”

“WHAT?” The man snapped, whipping around angrily.

“Samos said he needs his eco supplement or somethin’ like that,” Daxter said, a little annoyed. And people always complained he never listened. Hmph.

Torn stared.

“You seen Jak around?” Daxter asked, tired and rather irritated from the lack of response.

Torn extended his arm without a word, pointing at the digs at the north end.

“Thanks dude. I’ll get ya sumthin’ nice for your next birthday. How would ya feel about a hearing device?”

“Funny,” Daxter mumbled as he bounced off, “Didn’t even try to smack me for that. Torn must be getting old. Maybe I’ll really get him that hearing device after all.”

 

 **Rejoining**

“But I’m useless!” Keira cried, sitting flaccidly on one of the undamaged benches of the Stadium.

“Oh honey that’s not true, you’re just tired,” Tess tried to cheer the wailing girl, although she wasn’t feeling all that hot herself.

“I should be able to do more! But I can’t! I’m tired and I hurt everywhere and there are people dying and I just sit here feeling sorry for myself,” Keira continued howling.

“That’s not true,” Tess tried but it didn’t sound too convincing even in her own ears.

“Yes it is!”

“I need a hug,” Tess mumbled.

“Aw shucks, honey. Be glad I have such an impeccable timing,” Dax said dryly, too tired by now to even try sounding more cheerful. His voice snapped Keira out of her self-pitying, the girl finally noticing the redhead who’d been approaching the two for a good while now. Tess turned on her seat slowly.

“Sheesh, don’t think I’ve seen ya two on that low spirits since the time Samos forbid Keira from racin’. Who died and got ya all moping?” Dax scolded, and then remembered the day was all about death and mayhem, “Er, I mean, who else than lotsa innocent civilians? Ehheh.”

“DAXTER!” Tess shrieked and jumped to his neck, clutching the boy almost violently. Keira stared, eyes wide in amazement, her hands covering her mouth.

“Eh, no need to smother me babe, still kickin’ here ‘n all,” he informed the happily sobbing girl, “Not that I mind it that much…” Mm, girls were so soft.

“So, either of you lovely ladies- ack!” He’d been expecting a hug from Tess but the bone-crushing squeeze from Keira came out of nowhere.

“Oh, Daxter,” the girl blubbered, “We thought… We all thought…”

“Err, it’s nice that you all thought. Thinking, that’s good.” He patted the girl’s back awkwardly, not exactly sure how he was supposed to act when yakows started flying. Tess just beamed fondly when he looked at her for help.

“You should go,” Keira sniffled, wiping her nose. “Jak’s over there,” sniffle, “The collapsed area.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daxter snapped his fingers in a suave motion, “Catch ya chicks later!”

They watched Dax trod off over the rubble to meet up with his best friend, Keira leaning against the other girl’s shoulder. Tess hugged her back, too happy to speak.

Jak was sitting on a rock that might have once been part of the ramada. He’d been sitting there when he heard Tess’s shriek and bolted upright, then sagged right back down once he was assured that yes, it was Daxter, he was right over there and he was walking and most of all he was talking, which was always definite sign that he was alright.

“Hey Jak,” the boy called as he climbed over the piles of debris, “Took a while to find ya.”

“Hey Dax,” he greeted back with a hoarse voice.

“People are getting kinda crazy over this, huh? Wouldn’t believe it, Torn just stood and stared when I asked where I might find you. Didn’t even try to whack me when I made a crack about his age. Guy must be getting old.”

Jak took in the angry red burnt skin of his cheeks, the dusty hair, drooping ears and, most of all, the silly, goofy, harebrained, _idiotic_ grin on Daxter’s face.

“Oh man, am I glad to finally get to sit down. I’ve been walking the whole day, and I mean the whole damn day. Well, fought a mad killer robot at one point, but hey, nothing unusual about that. Mostly just walked.” But instead of sitting down he stopped in front of Jak. “So, how’s your day been?”

Jak took a hold on Daxter’s arms and bumped his head against his stomach, resting it there.

“Rough one, huh?”

Jak made something of an acquiescing motion with his head against the stomach. Daxter scratched behind Jak’s ear with one hand.

“Know what you mean, buddy. I didn’t get to eat that well myself.”

 

 **Feet**

When in a steady relationship, every annoying little habit the other possessed seemed to tenfold in the irritancy level.

Daxter kept stealing from his plate like it was a given he’d get all the good snacks Jak had saved for later. The brat ate like a pig, never gained any weight and had the gall to laugh at Jak when he put up a few pounds. Not that he laughed long, not when Jak demonstrated the advantages of the extra weight with a solid headlock.

Besides, it was all muscle. Definitely.

Jak couldn’t even brush his teeth in peace anymore without Daxter nagging about how he squeezed the toothpaste from the middle of the tube. And Precursors forbid if Jak didn’t set down the lid of the toilet seat.

However, for someone so pristine about the condition of the bathroom, Daxter just couldn’t keep his stuff in any semblance of order. The boy just shrugged it off if Jak told him to place his footwear neatly in the shoe rack and kicked his boots all around the hallway instead. Their stuff was scattered everywhere: Daxter had the habit of picking up things and leaving them lying around haphazardly wherever he pleased. Jak had to make Daxter swear by gunpoint he wouldn’t ever go near their artefact stash ever. Jak didn’t want yet another nightly bathroom visit end up with a fractured skull when he tripped over precursor orbs lying around the floor.

Yet Dax complained if he maintained his gun on the kitchen table and left the parts lying for longer than a day. And whined if Jak didn’t do the dishes when it was his turn. And he was a sticky sleeper. And he kept hogging Jak’s pillow. And his feet were always cold.

“AGH!” Jak bellowed as two ice-cold limbs pressed against his own. “You little shit! You did that on purpose!”

Daxter snickered, inching his feet even closer as Jak desperately shimmied away as much as the bed had room to.

“C’mon big guy, warm me up!”

“You keep your clammy digits off me or I- Hey, I’m in the middle of stating the consequences of pushing cold limbs against my persona. You don’t go pushing your cold fingers in my- take ‘em off there!”

“They’re coming to get youuu!”

Jak defended himself as well as he could, but when he got a hold of the hands there were cold feet pressing up his thighs and when he pushed the feet off there were fingers inching up his shirt, as he battled them off the fingers tried to swim into his pants and the feet were riding up his calves...

Jak rolled on top and Daxter laughed cheekily as he finally managed to push his hands down Jak’s boxers. “Mm, nice and warm...” Jak’s thighs felt almost burning hot against his palms. Daxter knead the muscle contently.

“You know, while you have your hands down there...”

“Mm-hmm...I’ll see what I can do, big guy.”

Well, maybe Jak could survive the occasional pile of racing gear in front of the bathroom door. He could always study the art of squeezing the toothpaste and the toilet seat wasn’t that big of a deal. Dax would be gaining weight just as well when the age caught up with him.

“Yeah, ya like that, don’t you, “Daxter murmured.

“Y-yeah, kinda. Unh.”

And the feet could always be warmed up.


End file.
